


Roadside Rest

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-07
Updated: 2006-09-07
Packaged: 2018-09-03 06:48:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8701657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Post-Benders PWP





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

**Title:** Roadside Rest  
**Author:** merepersiflage  
**Pairings:** Sam/Dean  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Category:** PWP  
**Word Count:** 2000  
**Summary:** Post-Benders PWP   
**Warnings:** incest, graphic m/m sex, language--It’s for [ ](http://keepaofthecheez.livejournal.com/profile)[**keepaofthecheez**](http://keepaofthecheez.livejournal.com/) so I had to slip in an endearment. Just look away if it’s too schmoopy.   
**Disclaimer:** Yes.  
**Notes:** The incomparably sweet and wonderful [ ](http://keepaofthecheez.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://keepaofthecheez.livejournal.com/)**keepaofthecheez** is having a sucky day week month and she wanted a loving post-Benders PWP, so I tried to write her one. It’s quick and dirty, but done out of love.   
  
  
  
  
Dean had broken more than a few bones, had probably a hundred stitches without the benefit of anesthetics and separated his right shoulder so many times he could almost pop it back in himself. So, really, he was on pretty good terms with pain. So when something hurt like a bitch, he knew what he was talking about. And burns were the absolute worst.   
  
There was nothing quite like smelling your own flesh burning. The pain just went everywhere, no excuses, no talking your way out of it. But he still didn’t think it had hurt as bad as the pain under his skin when he’d heard that shot.   
  
One shot. Sam gone.   
  
Gone because he had chosen. But what else was there? With Sam free, hunted but out of that cage, they stood a chance. And then that single shot.   
  
He looked over at Sam, walking beside him, hands in his pockets, an almost smile on his lips, seemingly unaware of how fucking close he’d been to dying. To leaving Dean in a way that meant he was never coming back. Because of Dean’s choice.   
  
“Fucking hell.” He turned abruptly and shoved into Sam, pressing them both off the dirt road they’d been following and into a tree. “Don’t ever do that again.”  
  
“We’ve been over this already. ‘You’re not looking for me, got it.’”  
  
But Dean was done joking. The adrenalin had worn off, leaving nothing but more pain, fear and anger than even he could bury. He grabbed Sam’s head with his working arm and pulled him down for a kiss that had a lot more of panic in it than passion. He slammed their lips together, drove deep with his tongue searching for the heat of life in Sam’s mouth.   
  
He found him under cracked dry lips and two days’ worth of sweat and stubble.   
  
Sam took the kiss for a minute, mouth open and unresisting, his hands resting lightly on Dean’s shoulders. The weight, the solid weight of them, another reminder of Sam still alive, here. The pressure grew until Sam was squeezing him, and it suddenly occurred to him that Sam’s head might not be enjoying forced contact with the tree.   
  
He eased up, breathing hard and Sam grabbed his head and pulled him back, sliding down to match his height.   
  
“You didn’t come back. I thought they’d killed you.” Sam ground out against his lips before diving in with his tongue.   
  
“Almost.”  
  
“Yeah, the twelve year old really took you out. Kids are the best, huh?”  
  
“Shut up.” Dean was trying to figure out a way to get his cock against Sam’s without his chest hitting and not lose his brother’s mouth in the process. It was complicated.   
  
Until Sam helped. The boy had a flexible fucking spine. Yeah. That was about right.   
  
Sam lifted his head to pant. “Here?”  
  
Dean didn’t think that really needed an answer, just bucked harder against him, sealing his lips so he couldn’t ask anymore really stupid questions.   
  
Sam was getting the idea now, his hand sliding between them, thumb in Dean’s waistband, long enough to find the head of his dick and Dean went from hard to gotta fuck now in a blink.   
  
He tipped his head back to get his own hand someplace that would get Sam on the same page—though more like gotta _get_ fucked now because Dean needed in Sam. Needed him hot and tight and _alive_ around him.   
  
Dean was pretty appreciative of Sam’s preference for baggy pants as he slipped his hand down the front. He found the leaking, velvet soft head and gave it a quick stroke. Sam’s moans vibrated against his mouth as he brought him up to speed.   
  
He pulled him away from the tree, and took a few more steps into the woods where the ground cover was soft and thick with pine needles. Sam shrugged out of his jacket, spread it on the ground, and pulled him down, which Dean figured concluded the stupid questions part of the evening.   
  
But it was Sam and he should have known better. They’d just gotten their jeans over their hips and he was asking, “Do you have anything?”  
  
“Because I always dash off into life and death situations with lube in my pocket?”  
  
Sam shoved him, miraculously missing the burned off part of his chest.   
  
“I’ve got a lubricated condom in my wallet and a mouthful of spit. Any more questions?”  
  
Sam opened his mouth, and Dean slid his thumb in it. Sam’s tongue slicked it, rolled it, sucked it, sending a tingle all the way up his arm. For a fraction of a second, Dean reconsidered exactly where he wanted his dick until Sam moaned and hitched his hips and it was all fucking clear again.   
  
He yanked Sam’s pants all the way down to his ankles, and Sam kicked them off the rest of the way. He slid his thumb back out of Sam’s mouth, rubbing it against his lips before kissing him again because if Sam had too much time to think and talk about it, he was going to tense up way too much for this to work. And he couldn’t let that happen because if he didn’t fuck him right the hell now his balls might actually strangle him in a fit of rage.   
  
His thumb slid past that tight ring, wiggled, and slid deeper. Sam’s choked moan rumbled so low it shook Dean’s chest. He tightened and relaxed around Dean’s thumb, responding to each thrust and movement. He got it swirling, and Sam was grinding down onto his hand. He trusted the quick fuck of his thumb would keep Sam preoccupied while he straightened and slicked two fingers of his other hand in his own mouth.   
  
He watched Sam’s face as he slid them inside his brother, the shine of teeth and eyes and wet lips about all he could make out in the dark. But the “Yeah, god, harder, now,” made it pretty clear he was enjoying himself. He twisted his wrist, ignoring the pain as the motion pulled at seared skin. Sam arched and whined.   
  
“Now,” he repeated.   
  
Since Dean’d been the one to get things rolling toward fucking in the woods with the car still a few miles away, he thought it was pretty obvious he wasn’t particularly interested in waiting. Sam’s body was shifting and bucking as he tried to get himself off on just Dean’s fingers, and while that was something he could watch on permanent replay, his own dick was burning against his belly. He needed two hands to dig out the condom and Sam didn’t seem to like that at all, but when he was finally ready and pressing in, Sam decided to say the worst thing possible.   
  
“Wait.”  
  
His fingers dug deep into Sam’s hips, but he waited. It felt like his entire spine seized with the strain of it, but he waited. Sam’s muscles clamped so hard on the head of his dick he thought his balls would burst, but he waited.   
  
Sam’s teeth flashed as he bit his lip. Dean took a deep breath. He needed this, needed them together until the horror of that gunshot stopped echoing in his head, but if it was going to hurt Sam that much . . .  
  
“Okay.”  
  
He could still feel the tight squeeze. “Okay?”  
  
“Just go.”  
  
Dean really didn’t think so. In fact, Sam was practically pushing him out until he arched up and slid himself down with a harsh gasp Dean could feel grate all the way to his bones.   
  
Hot pressure milked every inch of his dick; even through the latex he could feel the pulse of blood, the shift of soft flesh. His hips started to stutter and he froze again.   
  
“Christ.” His hands were digging a hole into the ground just above Sam’s shoulders. “I’ve got to—please,” he could feel his control start to slide away. “Damnit, tell me I can move.”  
  
“Yeah.” Sam brought his knees toward his chest.   
  
His hips shoved him forward, deeper, fighting against that impossibly tight grip Sam’s body had on him. He could only work a little, but the friction, god that unbelievable friction.   
  
Sam wrapped his legs around his hips, heels driving him forward. “Faster.”   
  
“Tryin’, Sammy. You’re fucking tight.”  
  
“Well, if _uhn_ this is how _oh god_ life and death situa _ahhh_ ations affect you _Jesus_ maybe you _shit_ should carry lube.”  
  
He grabbed Sam’s hips and went as fast as he could, forced his hips as hard as he could, and then he shifted, went for a different angle.  
  
“Holy shit.” Sam’s neck arched and everything got a little easier. He kept up that roll to his hips, and Sam was spitting out a curse with every thrust, words getting less and less intelligible.   
  
Sam around him, swearing and panting and shining with sweat. His mile long legs squeezing his hips almost as hard as his ass squeezed his dick. The fire of the burn faded, the echo of the shot faded, everything faded away until there was nothing but them swearing and slamming together.  
  
Sam’s knuckles rubbed his belly as he wrapped his hand around his cock. The sounds ripping from his brother’s throat just got that much sweeter.   
  
He tried to match his thrusts to the rhythm of Sam’s hand sliding over his dick. Sam bit his lip again, moaned his name.   
  
“Dean, I’ve gotta come _now_.”  
  
He was pretty close to going over himself. “Yeah, baby. Do it.”  
  
A splash of warmth against his stomach and Sam bucked up hard, clamping down tighter than anything he’d ever had around his dick, a blinding pressure that had him thrusting all sloppy and desperate. _God, Sammy, I almost killed you. Don’t fucking do this to me again._   
  
He came with a fucking burst of light behind his eyeballs, teeth tearing through his bottom lip, spine unglued leaving him to shake his way through it. His balls dumped load after load inside Sam until he collapsed on top of him.   
  
Sam’s voice was slow and deep in his ear. “Good thing you aren’t looking for me next time, because if you rescue me again I may not be able to walk for a week.”  
  
“Well, I’m not carrying you. The car’s still a good three miles away.”  
  
He grabbed the condom and eased out, tying it off and tossing it away before he rolled to his side.   
  
His shirt stuck to his stomach, and he scrubbed at his stomach with some of the pine needles.  
  
Sam propped himself up on his elbows. “So, you almost killed me?”  
  
_Fuck._ He said that aloud? He usually had better control than that.   
  
He sat up and tried to read his brother’s face in the dark.   
  
“They—uh—made me pick. Who they would—uh—hunt.”  
  
“Uh-huh.” Sam didn’t look disgusted.  
  
“I just wanted you free. I knew you could take them.”  
  
“Did, too.” Sam’s mouth twisted.   
  
Dean looked down, started to climb to his feet.   
  
“Dean. If you hadn’t. They’d have killed you. And the cop, too.” Sam’s voice took on that soft urgency he used when he was determined to win the argument, the voice that was so much harder to ignore than his bratty whine. “So really, I almost got you killed. I should have been paying more attention, I’m sorry.”  
  
“Yeah. Let’s go.”  
  
“Dean, it was the right choice.”  
  
The echo was softer now, but he could still hear that shot, feel it rip the heart right out him.   
  
Dean grunted.   
  
Sam found his pants and slid them on, wincing. “Shit. You couldn’t have waited until we got to the car?”  
  
Dean shrugged. “You were walking too fast anyway.” The burn dug in with a fresh blast of pain. So much for sex endorphins.   
  
“You could have asked me to slow down.” Sam clambered up to stand, bracing himself against a tree.   
  
“More fun this way.”  
  
“Says you.”   
  
“And you, Mr. Harder-Faster.”  
  
“Shut up.”  
  
“Make me.”


End file.
